


some shattering find (for this candor to die)

by wakeupyoursaints (untiltheliebecomesyourlife)



Series: The Matter at Hand [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Punishment, Slavery, dubcon, fantasy!au, faunus!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untiltheliebecomesyourlife/pseuds/wakeupyoursaints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan Haywood takes his job as slave trainer very seriously, and when the little faunus brat Michael speaks out of turn at an important dinner, he takes rather extreme measures - after all, he wouldn't want to have to involve the king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	some shattering find (for this candor to die)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene I'm releasing early from a massive work still in its planning stages but long story short it's a kind of royalty!faunus!au with King Geoff and Prince Gavin and slave!Michael (and Miles and Ray) and pretty much every other character at some time or another and it's all kinds of wrong but here we are
> 
> I'll probably release more scenes as they're written but I don't know if the whole thing will ever be published because of length issues and also I feel bad for not feeling bad for all that we're putting these poor babies through so yeah
> 
> also the series name may change because we haven't decided on a title for the whole work just yet

The thing was, Michael knew he’d fucked up the moment the words started spilling out of his mouth, but it was like a cart careening out of control – he couldn’t stop it any more than he could steer it somewhere safe. So he wasn’t surprised when the king’s face fell dangerously and Ryan’s became an inscrutable mask (which of course bode far worse for him than even the most deathly glare from the king).

He wasn’t surprised when King Geoff leaned over and muttered something to Ryan that he couldn’t quite make out but that looked a lot like “get your slave under control.”

He wasn’t surprised in the least when Ryan excused himself from the table and grabbed Michael roughly by the ear, literally dragging him from his seat and out the door.

Michael knew better than to make noise – and even if he did, who would pay him any mind? To everyone else, he was a slave who was getting what was coming to him, simple as that.

When they stopped moving, Michael left the safe space of his head and realized they’d gone to the barracks. He had just enough time to consider why that was so bad and hope to god that Ray and Miles weren’t there before Ryan’s voice was in his ear, low and menacing. “Michael, that was very bad. Very disrespectful. You disobeyed and you know it.”

Michael turned to face him, attempting to keep all traces of fear off his face, but it was especially hard to do when he could see Ray and Miles out of the corner of his eye, looking terribly concerned. “I know I shouldn’t have said what I did to that man’s face, but—“

“ _No_ , Michael. You shouldn’t have said it at all. He had every right to speak that way.”

Michael felt like he was boiling over, so it was an incredible feat that he replied as quietly as he did. “Why? _Why_ is he allowed to tell me how low and dirty I am while I’m fucking serving him food?”

Ryan’s expression darkened when Michael swore – and really it might seem from an outside perspective like Michael was just taunting him now; just digging his hole deeper on purpose. And maybe he was. It wasn’t that he wanted the lashes, but he sure as hell wouldn’t back down over something like this. He was in the right. If he had to be punished for that, well… what doesn’t kill you, right?

The trainer’s response was slow and practically venomous. “Because you are a slave. And not only that, I’m supposed to be teaching you to be a _good_ slave. And good slaves don’t talk back. Take your shirt off.”

Michael froze; his veneer cracked a little. “What? Here?”

Ryan was on the other side of the room, scanning the shelf for the switch. “If I have to say it again you’ll regret it, Michael.”

All the other slaves fell silent as Michael obliged, but one of them – a younger one, a legacy kid – made a small frightened noise when he glimpsed Michael’s back, still faintly scarred from the last time. Michael tried to warn them away with a look, but Ryan was back and he knew there was no avoiding it; they were going to be shown a punishment, obviously to remind them to keep in line and probably to up Michael’s humiliation. The faunus grimaced and mentally steeled himself, looking back at Ryan before walking forward to the low table near the wall and bracing his hands on the edge.

The only warning he was given before it started was a chilling, “10 lashes again. And you’d better count properly this time.”

He took a breath to reply but it was stolen from his lungs with the first crack of the switch across his bare skin. “One.”

“Louder.” _Crack._

Michael would have been almost incredulous if not for the pain already settling into his back. “O-one,” he gritted out, louder but with a tremor.

_Crack._ “Two.”

_Crack._ “Th-three.”

_Crack._ “Four.” A whimper, a tightening of knuckles on the splintering wood surface.

_Crack._ “Five.” Almost shouted.

_Crack._ “Six…” Nearly a moan.                                             

_Crack._ “S-seven.”

_Crack._ “Eight.” His hands were trembling, his feet shifted.

_Crack._ “Nine…” Drawn-out, shaky, desperate even.

_Crack_. Done. “T-ten,” he gasped out, something like fire spreading across his skin, sinking into his muscles, and wait. Something cold and uncomfortable was trickling down… yeah, that was blood. Not a lot, but _fuck._

He turned to face Ryan, whose expression was unreadable and rather off-putting. He expected cold satisfaction or flat menace. Instead, there was some strange fire alight in the trainer’s eyes, and he looked like he was short of breath with the effort. He wasn’t sure if that was a bad sign, but actually at this point he really didn’t care; he wanted to get away from the man and curl up on his cot and ignore the stares he was currently getting from every other slave in the room.

“Michael. We’re not done here,” Ryan called after him. Michael turned with some difficulty, having stumbled over to his cot.

“What else are you going to… What?” Michael quickly corrected himself.

“Come to my chambers tonight at midnight. Don’t be late.”

With that he was out the door, and all eyes shifted once again to Michael, who’d had enough.

“What the fuck are you all looking at?” he barked, causing some of the younger ones to jump and some of the kids his age to glare at him before going about their business. _Thank god._

But even then, laying on his side with the wounds still fresh and exposed, he couldn’t really rest. What the hell was going to happen later?

He didn’t look up, but he knew Miles was standing there.

“You okay?” It wasn’t said unkindly despite its brevity; in fact, Michael heard a lot of things Miles didn’t say, and when Michael just grunted, Miles knew to sit down beside him and take Michael’s hand in his. They stayed like that long after the sun passed below the single dusty window and the stars took its place; they stayed like that until Michael had to leave. Miles let him go with a kiss on trembling lips.

He knocked on Ryan’s door once. He was a minute early. The man answered curtly anyway, though he hardly expected to be greeted with flowers and an apology. Michael didn’t waste time with formalities either.

“Why am I here?”

He wouldn’t admit that Ryan’s answering smirk sent shivers down his spine. He’d stand his ground this time; he couldn’t let Miles look at him like that again, with such overwhelming pity (that from _anyone_ else would be intolerable).

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit you again. Sometimes lessons can be taught more subtly. Would you like a drink?”

“Uhh…” Michael blinked once and cleared his throat. “No? No thank you?”

Ryan chuckled softly and sat on the right side of his bed, patting the space next to him. “Come, sit down. Let’s talk.”

Michael didn’t see that he had much of a choice in the matter, especially now that they were alone. He hesitated at the foot of the bed before crawling up to the headboard and sitting cross-legged against it. He was tense, rigid almost, without really knowing why. Ryan noticed immediately, scooting closer to the boy and placing a hand on his arm. Michael flinched like he’d been splashed with ice water.

“Hey, it’s okay, relax. I won’t hurt you,” Ryan said in what might have been a soothing voice, but only made Michael more nervous. He still didn’t know what the hell Ryan was trying to accomplish. He’d taken his punishment and even counted correctly – and it wasn’t exactly a comfort that he’d have to go along with anything Ryan did or said.

“Am I getting punished again?” Michael asked tentatively. Ryan’s hand was still on his arm, fingertips trailing lightly across his skin. The older man shook his head, propping himself up by one elbow to face Michael.

“No, but this _is_ a lesson in obedience. A rather untraditional method, maybe, but I have a feeling it’ll be effective. Stretch your legs out, Michael.”

Michael did so despite the thousand questions that cropped up in his brain, the little warning signals that were drowned out with regulatory compliance. Ryan continued with his light, perplexing touches, reaching his shoulder and dancing across his collarbone. Michael shivered slightly, even though Ryan’s hands were relatively warm. The trainer moved back down near the waistband of Michael’s pants and traced patterns into the bare skin there, causing another flareup in the faunus’ nerves. Ryan looked at him intently, conveying reassurance with a veiled threat that it was _really_ in his best interest to relax.

Michael exhaled quickly, trying to dull the razor edge of anxiety as Ryan’s hand inched further downward and hovered over his crotch. His eyes had been following its path, but they jolted back to Ryan’s when the man murmured, “Do your best to stay quiet.”

Michael’s eyes widened and he gasped – very audibly – when Ryan palmed his cock through the layers of fabric. He pressed more firmly, grinding the heel of his hand down almost teasingly. His other hand came up to tangle in Michael’s curls, tugging gently and forcing his gaze back up after it had slipped a second time.

“Keep your eyes on me, Michael.” His voice was firm but oddly patient.

This was proving difficult already, as Ryan’s hand was doing way more interesting things than the rest of him; now he had slipped past the waistband and gripped his cock at the base, slowly making his way to the tip and circling his thumb there. _Fuck._

He was failing spectacularly at keeping quiet – little whimpers and moans fell from his lips with every stroke, and the special attention paid to the head drew a louder sound from him almost immediately. Ryan arched a brow.

“What did I say about being quiet?”

Michael tried to communicate an apology without speaking, and the next time Ryan’s clever fingers traced the tip of his cock, he bit back his groan.

“Good boy.”

Those words suddenly made him want very much to keep obeying; he rarely heard them directed at him, and he’d been made aware of how much he _needed_ them to be. His moans turned to soft pants, his whimpers softer, despite Ryan quickening his pace and pulling harder at his hair. Instead of releasing the tension with noises, he began clutching at the sheets and arching his back, every movement accompanied by little twitches and jerks.

Most of the time he even remembered to look at Ryan, although as he got closer to the edge his vision started going unfocused. One last twist of his hand and a murmur of “you’re doing so well” and Michael was gone, pressing his hand over his mouth to muffle a sob as he spilled onto Ryan’s fingers and his own stomach.

“Such a good boy. See what obedience can get you?”

Michael didn’t know if he expected a reply – he was still coming down from his high and could hardly breathe, let alone speak to the trainer. He settled for a long, shuddering sigh and the barest nod of his head.

“Now you may leave.”

Michael blinked slowly up at the man. _Now?_

Ryan didn’t look like he was going to say it again. Instead he slouched back onto the pillows and looked at Michael expectantly, so Michael – setting in stone a dangerous precedent – did what he was ordered.


End file.
